


Last Kiss

by Secretlyademigodinthetardis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Car Accidents, College AU, Date Night, Even though it wasn't his fault, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Guilty Dean Winchester, M/M, Songfic, kind of, mute!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:20:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1426588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secretlyademigodinthetardis/pseuds/Secretlyademigodinthetardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh where, oh where, can my baby be?<br/>The Lord took [him] away from me.<br/>[He]'s gone to heaven so I've got to be good,<br/>So I can see my baby when I leave this world."<br/>-Last Kiss, Pearl Jam</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of Songfic based off what happens in the song "Last Kiss" by Pearl Jam. College AU. Castiel is taken from Dean in a car accident, and Dean is inconsolable.

It had been three months and Dean still cried himself to sleep every night. Sam knew, because he could hear him through the thin walls that separated their bedrooms, calling out Castiel's name and sobbing incoherently as he drifted off into a sleep filled with nightmares.

The Impala was still languishing in tatters at Uncle Bobby's salvage yard, and nothing Sam, John or Bobby said or did could convince Dean to go and fix her up. Too many memories were stuffed in there. Memories of Castiel, memories of that night.

Sam knew Dean still blamed himself. Dean never did anything anymore – he went to college, came home, ate, and went to bed. That was it. His skin was grey, his eyes lifeless and dull, cheeks hollowed out with a permanently haunted, gaunt look on his face. There was no life in his brother anymore, all happiness and signs of being an actual human had died alongside Castiel in that stupid, unnecessary accident.

* * *

*three months earlier*

The '67 Chevy Impala – given to Dean by his father not two weeks before – cruised down the road, engine purring. It was 11 at night, and Dean couldn't help but glance over at his passenger every few seconds, the corners of his mouth turning up in genuine happiness. Castiel smiled back, and reached over so that his fingers were entwined with Dean's between them on the leather seat.

A year into their relationship, and still every time they had a 'date night', it felt like their first. Dean was pretty sure his heart was about to burst every time Castiel looked at him, every time Castiel tilted his head in confusion (a LOT – despite being 22, Castiel was hopelessly uneducated on pop culture, something Dean had been working on correcting ever since they met when they were 19), every time Castiel did  _anything_  – walk, talk, smile, eat, kiss Dean, hold Dean, reassure Dean when he was sad, tell Dean he loved him in a whisper under the sheets at night – and it was amazing.

He loved Castiel, had done since for 3 years (only being able to acknowledge it for 1), and Castiel loved him.

The Impala's headlights lit up the road ahead, and Dean redirected his attention to the road.

"Dean?" Castiel said, a smile evident in his tone.

"Yeah, Cas?"

"I really loved tonight," and he squeezed Dean's hand gently. It was all they needed to do to communicate their feelings. In the dead of night, when Dean was shocked awake by nightmares about his mum's death or Alastair's torturous bullying throughout his teen years, it was Castiel who held him and rocked him back to sleep. It was Castiel who built a blanket fort with him on their bed, and they could spend the day in bed just holding one another and kissing slowly, enjoying the taste and feel of the other and of being loved. One day, they'd done just that – the sun mostly blocked out by the duvet that was tented over them. Castiel had been half sat up, Dean's head in his lap, as Castiel read their shared copy of Slaughterhouse-Five. Not exactly the most romantic of novels, but to them it didn't matter. Dean had lain there, letting Castiel's gravelly tones wash over him and lull him into a complacency he'd never had before. Castiel had been unable to resist Dean, leaning down to kiss him every couple of pages (when Dean wasn't the one tugging his head down anyway). They'd only moved to get food or go to the bathroom.

It had been awesome.

Dean squeezed Castiel's hand back, smiling out the front windscreen.

"Same."

The Impala went around a corner.

The lights shone upon an empty car, stalled in the middle of the road and lying across both lanes.

"Holy  _shit!_ " Dean slammed on the brakes and swerving to the left, but they locked, sending the Impala skidding sideways - straight into the vehicle blocking their way.

" _CAS!"_

The passenger side collided with the car with a sickening  _crunch_ , and Dean was thrown against the steering wheel, unconscious as the sound of Castiel's scream echoed through his skull.

* * *

Dean came to moments later, to the sound of heavy rain falling and bouncing off the roof of the crumpled car. Rivulets of water seeped through the gashes in the metal, soaking his face and mingling with the blood that was spattered across him. He looked over, and saw Castiel, unconscious, against the passenger side door.

"Cas? Cas! Oh my god Cas, please wake up," he sobbed, undoing his seatbelt and managing to slide over to where Castiel lay, despite the pain that caused spots to appear and blur his vision. He gently pulled Castiel from where he was slumped against the door, blood seeping from wounds in his head and chest. Dean saw the shard of glass impaled in his boyfriend's chest, and his heart dropped with tears springing to his eyes.

"Cas?" His voice shook. A woman ran out onto the road from a house nearby, followed by a whole crowd of people who were running to help. Evidently there had been a party there that night.

"I saw everything, I've called an ambulance they'll be here soon. Are you okay?!"

Dean ignored her, breath coming in short, painful gasps as he cradled Castiel's head in his lap. Castiel blinked slowly, and his gaze focused on the shaking man.

"Dean?"

"Cas! Just stay awake, talk to me, it's gonna be okay. We're gonna be okay."

Castiel smiled sadly, taking in the lacerations across his body and the glass embedded in him.

"You're a terrible liar, Dean. Remember when I asked you if you had a crush on me, and you tried to deny it? That's how I knew you loved me back. I knew you wouldn't ever have the guts to ask me out though. I had to do it for you. Remember?"

Dean let the tears flow freely now.

"Cas, don't talk like that. We'll get you out of this, the ambulance is coming."

"Dean, please just hold me. For a little while."

Dean held Castiel close, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his lips.

"I love you, Cas. I love you so much, I'm so sorry, this is my fault, please don't leave me" he choked out.

"I love you too, Dean. I always will. And this wasn't your fault. Don't blame yourself, please," Castiel smiled dreamily, and used the last of his strength to stroke Dean's cheek. There was a silence punctuated only by Dean's sobs, and then there was a faint wail of sirens in the distance.

"I gotta go now, Dean," Castiel croaked out, unable to tear his gaze from Dean.

"The ambulance is coming, Cas! They're just pulling up now! Hold on for me, please! I love you too much for this to happen!"

"I can't, Dean," Castiel whispered. "I can't feel anything now…..I just feel love. For you. I'm sorry Dean….I love you."

And the light faded forever from those piercing blue eyes as the ambulance arrived. It was too little, too late as Dean screamed out in anguish, clinging Castiel's body to him. He kissed his lips over and over, trying to bring him back, and continued to scream even after his voice gave out and all that escaped his mouth was rasps.

It took the EMT's half an hour to pry the hysterical man from Castiel, as he refused to let go and sobbed soundlessly.

* * *

Dean hadn't spoken since that night. It wasn't that he couldn't – the nightly screaming was proof enough of that – he just didn't know how anymore. He had nothing to say. He'd moved back in with Sam and John after a month, unable to cope with being in the apartment he had shared with Castiel. Every inch of it contained something that reminded him of Castiel – the wall that Dean had pinned him against before making love, the bookshelves that had at first been split down the middle, but then allowed their possessions to integrate with one another as easily as breathing, the cupboards that had stupid novelty mugs that Castiel somehow managed to find  _anywhere,_  buying them with an infectious glee and presenting them to Dean shyly, awaiting his reaction. Dean had loved them all, even the ugly ones, because it was Castiel who had bought them.

The apartment was left to gather dust. Dean had left most of his stuff back there, and the entire flat was left as a shrine to his and Castiel's relationship, untouched and unvisited.

* * *

Dean felt numb. He didn't speak. What was the point? He barely ate, only bothering when Sam prompted him to.

Every night he was haunted by the images of Castiel, every single moment they'd shared. Most of his time was spent in his room, staring at the ceiling as tears ran down his cheeks silently. He remembered the day he'd met Castiel, awkwardly stumbling into a lecture hall after tripping over his own feet. He'd grabbed onto the closest thing to him – which happened to be the hand of a gorgeous, dark-haired man with unnaturally blue eyes. Dean ploughed into his chest with a soft 'oof!', already blushing because  _it was his first damn day of college and he'd already made a complete dick of himself oh my god_ – and the guy had helped him regain his balance, Dean's breath hitching as they made eye contact. He'd known he was gay for a while – hell, he'd even slept with a few guys – but the feeling that latched onto him and set up a permanent home in his heart as he looked at this man was completely new.

Dean was gone the second he met Castiel, and Castiel had left. All Dean could do now was try his damn hardest to lead a good life – whatever kind of life he could lead without Castiel – because he knew for sure that Castiel was up in Heaven, waiting for him.

And Dean would do whatever it took to see him again.

Dean suddenly started doing things again, albeit lifelessly. He donated to every charity he came across, giving away all of his spare money – he couldn't spend it on date nights now – and helped out stray animals he found on the street. All of this was done in silence, as he still couldn't find the words to speak, couldn't find anything worth saying. People knew him as the cute, silent guy, the one who helped out everyone and never asked for anything back, the one who still, no matter what he was doing, had an air of despair hovering over him that refused to leave.

* * *

Sam supposed that it would have come as a bittersweet relief to Dean, five months later, when he was found by Alastair on his way home from the animal shelter. Alastair had tormented Dean for years, hating him without reason and beating him senseless on many occasions. Witnesses said that Alastair simply pinned Dean against an alley wall, insane from hate and screaming abuse, before slicing into his stomach and running away. Dean had slumped to the ground, with only strangers there to comfort him as he lay there dying. All he could do was shakily reach for a pen and paper, scrawling two words that were read by Sam later, and clutching it tightly in one fist.

_Bye Sammy._

* * *

The woman who had been there as Dean died – Tessa – told him that Dean had been silent until the end, only letting a single word slip through his jaw as he finally let go.

" _Cas"_

It figured.


End file.
